| From Across The Room |
Red dress girl, your hands sweep tiredly away my passes. You don�t believe the wind does blow my kisses to your lips, your cheeks, your forehead. A nervous tick- you brush your hair behind your ear. You look away. Oh, why do you look away? Those eyes have enticed me. The hook is pulled; my heart, it bleeds, all over that red dress. Is that what you are- a needle and is that living dye? |